Where There's Smoke, There's Fire
by Kate Higgins
Summary: The aftermath of the Darla debacle. Angel and Cordy, well, realise what's been obvious to us for a long time. Obviously, an A/C shipper piece. Angst that turns fluffy. Little bit of black humour.


Disclaimer:  
Go to television. Turn it on. Find newest episode of Angel. Check  
credits. Is my name in there anywhere? And if it was, why would I be  
writing fanfiction? This would actually be happening on the show.  
Translation: Not mine, never was, probably never will be. Probably...  
[evil laughter]. It's all Joss's.  
'Nothing Compares to You' is sung by Sinead O'Connor. Oh the cheese.  
'All You Want' belongs to Dido  
  
Spoilers:  
Pretty much everything up to Epiphany. I haven't seen anything past  
The Thin Dead Line, but I've heard the gist of the ones that haven't  
aired yet.. I'm not sure if Angel staked Darla, but in my world, he  
staked her right after the sex. This is just what I think the  
feelings of everyone would be when Angel finally returns to help the  
group. With a C/A slant, obviously.  
  
Summary:  
Angst that turns fluffy. Little bit of black humour. The aftermath of  
the Darla thing, Angel and Cordy realise what's been obvious to us  
for SO long.  
  
Status:  
Finished  
  
Distribution:  
Anywhere that'll take it. I'm coming off as really desperate, aren't  
I?  
  
Feedback:  
Would really help my confidence issues. As in, I have very little.  
Might encourage me to write more, if anyone thinks this was half  
decent. Be gentle. Oh, and flames will be fed to Spike. My dog  
(coincidence only). I will then sic him on you, and he may be tiny,  
but he can be a vicious little terrier.  
  
Notes:  
I wrote the first half when I was a bit tipsy, and alcohol makes me  
depressed and insightful. It then turned, inexplicably, into fluff.  
I've been into lots of different 'ships, but this is the only one  
that's actually inspired me to write anything.  
  
Oh, and there is no curse. This is angsty enough without it. Angel  
has too many other issues to agonise over to think about that one.  
(Actually, I just get bored writing about it.)  
  
Okay, I admit, I have a problem with procrastination. It's a disease.  
I'm taking medicine. La-la, the fic!  
  
  
Smoke was rising the small room, curling up in an enchanting,  
hypnotising dance of death. Before he swung the door shut, he could  
see the flames rising, enveloping the papers with a strange grace and  
beauty. The crackling of wood, the creaks warning of imminent  
destruction. The stone walls of the room would prevent the fire from  
spreading, but there was no doubt that the contents would be  
destroyed, every last item incinerated, absolutely nothing  
salvageable. A long while's memories gone, in a matter of minutes. To  
some, this would seem distressing. But he watched without sadness.  
After all, it wasn't accidental. The flames were cleansing, helping  
him to start fresh, to leave this strange, perverse and foolish  
obsession behind him. He would make up for these past few months; at  
least, he hoped that he would be able to. Possessions could be  
destroyed; the pain and grief caused to friends could not so easily  
be eradicated.  
  
As the door slammed shut, Angel stared for a second at its blank,  
wood veneer finish. After a couple of seconds, he turned around and  
walked swiftly down the corridor, never looking back. Without a  
glance over his shoulder, feeling strangely light, as if a huge  
burden had been lifted, he walked down the stairs and into the lobby  
of the Hyperion. He stood, staring blankly.  
  
"Oh, look, it's Sir Broods-a-lot. So, my little pyromaniac, is the  
room as charred and disgusting as those steaks that our regular  
little Cordon Bleu wannabe attempted to cook last night?"  
  
"It was most certainly not my fault! It said in my new Delia Smith  
recipe book to cook the steaks for precisely..."  
  
"Yuh, we get it Wesley. Angel, what did I ask before Master Chef  
managed to remind me of his attempt to impress us all with his  
culinary expertise?"  
  
"It's all gone. Everything that could ever remind me of..."  
  
"Nu-uh! No, don't say that name! That name is strictly verboten. In  
fact, is it even a real name? I never heard it used before. It's a  
stupid name."  
  
Angel smiled. "I wasn't going to say it. And yes, she's gone.  
Everything about her's gone. And Cordy, Wesley's steaks, they weren't  
so bad..."  
  
"Oh, it's alright for you, Mr 'I-have-no-taste-buds-so-there's-really-  
no-point-me-wasting-good-food-here-Cordelia-have-mine'!" Cordelia  
pulled a face. "From now on, we are only eating in restaurants, or  
having take-out. And I will personally specify the restaurant. I  
would stick around and discuss Wesley's spectacular failure in the  
field of cookery, this time, and believe me, I would LOVE to do that -  
it's so much fun, and god knows we need some fun around here, since,  
well," she looked pointedly at Angel, who immediately looked away  
  
"But I love shopping more. Sales, sales, sales! Since Angel has been  
kind enough, well, actually, felt guilty enough to lend me his credit  
card, I thought that I would take it on a little trip to Melrose. Oh,  
but wait, what was I thinking? It's April, there are no sales! Oh  
well, I suppose I'll have to pay full price. Pity." She grinned  
smugly at the vampire in question, who was visibly shaking and  
grimacing. "Have fun sitting around and brooding, and reading, and...  
whatever else it is you do to keep yourself occupied."  
  
With that she flounced out of the office.  
  
Just as Angel started to turn to Wesley to comment, she was back.  
  
"Oh, and Angel? I'm sure you don't mind me borrowing the car. Okay,  
bye!"  
  
She grabbed the keys, and ran out again.  
  
"You know, I've been tortured fairly thoroughly during my unlife,  
both physically and mentally, and I'm ashamed to say I've been  
responsible for the torture of others, but Cordelia manages to  
constantly redefine the notion of total torment. I can already hear  
the bank manager's screams for mercy." Angel smiled at Wesley, and  
immediately stopped as he saw the look on Wesley's face.  
  
"Angel, I would love for everything to go back to normal immediately -  
t'would be a blessing if I had the capacity for forgiveness of a  
Saint, that I could smile, forget, and carry on with my life. But  
it's not that simple. We all trusted you - with our lives, at that,  
and it will be difficult for you to regain that trust."  
  
"I know. Believe me, words cannot express...I so, so sorry. The whole  
thing with Darla, it meant nothing to me. I got carried away, swept  
up in my past. It's not an excuse, I know that, and I was an idiot, a  
blind, unfeeling moron. I'm more than willing to let it become the  
past again. I hurt the people I care about most, and I will never let  
it happen again. Even if the circumstances arise, I just..."  
  
"I don't believe you. That's the problem. You have no excuse. You  
were not Angelus, and yet you behaved in a fashion that your alter  
ego would be quite proud of. You hurt us all, Angel, but no-one as  
much as that brave woman, who I hope is currently causing irreparable  
damage to your bank balance, much as you have caused her irreversible  
hurt. You're aware of the facade she wears?"  
  
"I...I don't know what you mean. Cordy and I are fine, really..."  
Angel stopped to think. She had been strangely cheerful, all things  
considered. But surely, she could begin to forgive him! He was her  
best friend... at least, he had been, before the whole Darla  
debacle... He had missed Cordelia. He allowed himself to admit that  
much. In his little foray into the grey areas, he had ignored and  
neglected the girl, the woman, he had become so close to over the  
past two years. He needed her. He loved her...  
  
As a friend. He caught himself - Cordelia was his best friend. He was  
just getting emotional. Their relationship was purely platonic. What  
little relationship was left standing, from before he had managed to  
burn almost all his bridges to the ground. But they had talked! He  
asked her if she could ever forgive him, and she replied, in that  
flippant style she was prone to when... when she was protecting  
herself from further pain.  
  
"Angel, don't be such an emotional retard! Of course I'll forgive  
you... Naturally, there might be cash, and shopping excursions  
involved... you were a total bastard, and it won't be fixed  
overnight, but give me time."  
  
Case closed. Cordelia Chase had spoken. Although, he could have sworn  
that he'd seen something in her eyes, some conflicting emotion... but  
he brushed it off, almost as easily as she seemed to have brushed off  
his treatment of her in the previous months...  
  
He was a fool. He believed her when she said that everything was  
fine, and he hadn't tried to talk to her. He let her get away with  
reverting to the down-trodden Cordelia he had found upon his arrival  
in Los Angeles. He longed for the Cordelia he had come to love, his  
best friend, his seer, HIS Cordy... there it was again. Snap out of  
it, Angel! She's not yours, and never will be! She's far too good for  
you. But, his mind amended, you don't want her like that.  
  
His subconscious still whispered to him, like the pixies whispered to  
Drusilla. 'You want her, you NEED her...' He even longed for the  
Cordelia of Sunnydale. She would tell him exactly what she thought of  
him, and he doubted that it would be pretty. More likely scathing, if  
he was lucky. Ice Queen Extraordinaire, Bitchiest of the Bitches.  
Like the Godfather, if the mafia cared a lot about 'totally important  
designers'. That's it, he would never let her make him  
watch 'Clueless' again. Not that she'd want to spend any time with  
him. Walls had gone up, and he was definitely not on the guest list.  
More likely scathing, if he was lucky.  
  
"She hates me, doesn't she?" Angel looked so thoroughly miserable  
that Wesley almost felt sorry for him. Almost.  
  
"I think hate is a strong word. However, I doubt that she thinks too  
highly of you at the moment. I hope you realise how you wounded her."  
  
"I do. I care about her so much, and when I think of what I've done  
to her, I....countless millennia in hell isn't punishment enough, it  
really isn't. I've been a selfish, cruel..."  
  
"Thoughtless, egotistical, self-absorbed, maniacal, vicious...all in  
all, a heartless prick, really."  
  
"Thank you, Wesley, in my self deprecating diatribe I almost ran out  
of vocabulary, you really helped." Angel flinched under Wesley's  
glare. "But it's true. I'm all those things, and more. To willingly  
and consciously hurt a person, I mean people, I care so much about...  
I never deserve redemption. Never."  
  
"Now, Angel, that is a little harsh on yourself. I'll start to think  
I'm wasting my time if you feel that way. No, I just think your  
little slip over to the dark side should add... well, a few hundred  
years onto your sentence," Wesley grudgingly said. He was perhaps  
physically injured the most by Angel's departure, in that he probably  
wouldn't have gained the huge, gaping bullet hole in his stomach if  
the vampire had been around, but realised that as long as Angel was  
back on the path to salvation, he was still willing to try and  
forgive him.  
  
Angel was touched by Wesley's attempt to make him feel a little  
better.  
  
"But, and correct me if I'm wrong, Angel - and I certainly hope I am -  
you seem to care the most about a certain person's willingness, or  
loath, as it may be, to accept and trust you again, as a person."  
Wesley looked carefully at Angel. Although the vampire was trying to  
show no emotion, the feelings penetrating his carefully set  
expression were of.... Wesley couldn't be sure. "Well?" he prompted.  
  
"I..." Angel struggled "I think, that I..." the truth finally dawned  
on him. Finally? He'd known it for a long while, but chose to ignore  
it. His feelings towards her had been growing, becoming less  
platonic, and more... well, ever since she had told him that she'd  
always be with him, after that never ending vision, which thankfully,  
chose to end. He was aware how close he had been to losing her, and  
was surprised to feel all the emotions that came to the surface when  
considering the possibility. Then that girl, the telekinetic...  
Bethany, she had thought they were a couple, and he was a little  
disconcerted how much that didn't bother him, and more than a little  
pleased that it didn't seem to bother her, either. But then along  
came Darla, who proceeded to ruin the unlife he had managed to build  
for himself here, and alienate the small group of people who cared  
for him, not to mention the woman he was growing to... love.  
  
"I think I love her, Wesley." He didn't elaborate further. It would  
be unfair for Wesley to know more about his feelings than Cordelia  
did.  
  
"Well, I think you really need to talk to her." Wesley didn't even  
try to act surprised. He had seen how his two friends had been  
behaving. "Oh, and if you ever hurt her, I will force you to bathe in  
holy water, then stake your undead arse to a flagpole and leave you  
to greet the sun."  
  
"Point taken." Angel would never hurt Cordelia again, he silently  
swore that to himself. Even if she didn't feel the same way; he would  
still be her best friend, forever.  
  
Wesley proceeded to re-immerse himself in research. Truthfully, he  
was glad that his friend had finally seen the metaphorical light.  
Even though Wesley had been more than willing, over the last couple  
of months, to let him see the literal, natural one. At least Angel  
and Cordelia would stop being miserable apart, and be happy together.  
If it worked out, that was. Angel could be a difficult sod, and  
Cordy... well, she did have a tendency to retreat into her icy shell  
when she was hurt. What Wesley wasn't about to tell Angel was that he  
was pretty sure that Cordelia had begun to feel the same way about  
him. No, she could tell him that herself.  
  
As if on cue, Cordelia suddenly barged back into the lobby, slamming  
the door loudly behind her.  
  
"Back so soon?" Wesley enquired. Her shopping trips very rarely only  
lasted ten minutes.  
  
"Mmm...huh?" Cordy looked vacantly at Wesley. "Oh, well, huge traffic  
pile-up. So could not be bothered. Also, I was sitting in that car,  
and I got to thinking..."  
  
I wonder what about, Wesley thought to himself.  
  
"Well, I'm finished for today. I'll be at my apartment if you need  
me. Good bye!" He gave Angel a knowing, hinting look, and walked  
briskly out.  
  
"Wesley, you slacker, it's only 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and we've  
got that horrible demon to research. Speaking of horrible demons,"  
she turned to Angel, "what are you doing up this early...late...  
whatever." Angel flinched at her little gibe, then replied:  
  
"Couldn't sleep. Also, with the whole incineration, I don't really  
have another room set up."  
  
"Oh. Right. Well, I kinda needed to talk to you, anyway..."  
  
* * *  
earlier on...  
  
As soon as she had left the office... hotel... place, Cordy headed  
straight for Angel's convertible. Jumping in, she turned the keys in  
the ignition, and pulled out of the drive, heading for Melrose. As  
she drove, the silence gave her unwelcome time to contemplate events.  
  
Stupid vampiric loser. He had hurt her, badly, and she really needed  
to talk about it, but he just seemed to be shut off about the whole  
thing. Not that he was pretending that it didn't happen, because it  
did... it really did. Bitch Darla. She waltzed in, in all her new-  
found humanity, and stole Cordelia's best friend away from her. It  
sounded a bit third grade, but it was true.  
  
Forgive him. After a little grovelling, and loss in the financial  
department, on his behalf. That's what her brain was telling her. But  
her heart... her heart was acting like it was... broken, or  
something. She felt just as bad as when she had walked in on that  
dweeb Xander Harris kissing another girl, then fell onto a sharp  
piece of metal, from a height. But she had loved Xander. Angel was  
just...  
  
Snap out of it Cordy! It's not like your're in love with... Nope,  
definitely not. Not gonna go there. So what if he was the only person  
she'd had as a true friend for... well, ever. Like those sheep  
Harmony and Aura and the other Cordettes had been her friends. And  
she had never been a part of the exclusive 'Scooby gang'. Not really.  
Doyle. Doyle had been her friend. She had started to love him, in  
more than a platonic way. He died. Boy, just a little unlucky with  
love, huh, Chase? But Angel had been there for her through that.  
Wesley. Wesley and Gunn were true friends, friends she would put her  
life on the line for, and quite frequently did. See, she wasn't that  
pathetic! Not many people could say they had friends who would die  
for them, and, in fact, one already had.  
  
It didn't help with the Angel situation. She still felt differently  
about him to her other friends. She put the radio on, to try to  
dispel the stupid, dumb silence that was making her think these inane  
thoughts. Sleep depravation. That was what it was. She hadn't been  
sleeping well... because of Angel. Damnit, she couldn't stop thinking  
about him! Okay, nice, oldies radio channel. Guaranteed to cheer a  
person up.  
  
"It's been seven hours and fifteen days  
Since you took your love away  
I go out every night and sleep all day  
Since you took your love away  
  
Since you've been gone I can do whatever I want  
I can see whomever I choose  
I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant  
But nothing  
I said nothing can take away these blues  
  
Because nothing compares  
Nothing compares to you"  
  
For some reason, the cheesy yet incredibly sad song brought tears to  
her eyes. She quickly flipped channels.  
  
"What is wrong with me?" she moaned. Think non-Angel related  
thoughts. Hmmm, Tiffany's, mansions, lots of money, rich men,  
handsome men, handsome vampires... no, start again. What was on TV  
the other night? Oh yeah, Friends, Jennifer Aniston, good clothes,  
Ralph Lauren, sounds French, Europe, Ireland, and guess what? Ended  
up straight back at Angel, with the added pain of thinking about  
Doyle. And those links weren't even tenuous, they were non-existant.  
She was such an incredible moron. Her brain told her one thing, her  
heart... she wasn't sure what her heart wanted. Actually, yeah, she  
was. Her heart wanted Angel back. And so did her head. They were just  
at odds as to how they wanted him. Her head was telling what a  
crapweasel he was, but that she could forgive him in the end, and be  
his friend again. Her soul just hurt. An agonising, scalding,  
permanent sinking Titanic style not-so-unsinkable-after-all feeling.  
  
Radio. Listen to the radio, only concentrate on the words.  
  
"I'd like to watch you sleep at night  
To hear you breathe by my side  
  
And although sleep leaves me behind  
There's nowhere I'd rather be  
  
And now our bed is oh so cold  
My hands feel empty  
No-one to hold  
  
I can sleep what side I want  
It's not the same with you gone  
  
Oh if you'd come home  
I'd let you know that  
  
All you want  
Is right here in this room  
All you want  
And all you need  
Is sitting here with you  
  
It's been three years  
One night apart  
But in that night you tore my heart  
  
If only you had slept alone  
If those seeds had not been sown  
  
Oh you could come home  
And you would know that  
All you want  
Is right here in this room  
All you want  
And all you need  
Is sitting here with you"  
  
Of all the goddamn songs that could come on, every time it was one  
that she could relate to her and Angel. And they were always just  
miserable enough to nearly make her cry. Hell, actually, the mood she  
was in, she could probably relate Mustang Sally to Angel. And cry  
over it. She wasn't sure how, but she'd probably manage.  
  
It felt like she'd been hit with a tonne of bricks. After quickly  
checking that she hadn't in fact hit a tonne of bricks with the Angel-  
Mobile, she stared in front of her in shock, only still driving  
through pure reflex.  
  
"I'm in love with him. I'm completely, utterly, head-over-heels in  
love with that jackass! God, girl, you have bad instincts! Shit,  
shit, shit!" She was, of course, kidding herself. About the instincts  
part. Who wouldn't fall in love with the dark, broody yet sweet,  
gorgeous yet still very manly vampire? Even after everything that had  
happened, she wanted him. Desperately.  
  
Looking briefly in the wing mirror, she grasped the hand-brake, and,  
after making a fairly illegal U-turn, sped back to the office. Screw  
shopping. And who'da thunk Cordelia Chase would ever think anything  
more important than the spending of money? Then again, she would have  
to ask that person, did you SEE Angel?!  
  
* * *  
present  
  
After Wesley had pretty much sprinted out of the office, and Cordelia  
and Angel had exchanged those few sentences, they just stood, staring  
at each other. And it wasn't a good silence, an amicable one. It was  
the sort of silence that had tension that you could cut with a knife,  
but still managed to be uncomfortable. Angel kept looking at his feet  
in the manner of an avid floor-board spotter, and Cordelia twisted  
the hair that was supposed to be behind her ears until it almost  
started to knot. They both happened to look up at each other at the  
same time, and both blurted out:  
  
"We need to talk." Angel smiled a little, and Cordelia laughed  
nervously.  
  
"After you," she said.  
  
"No, I insist, ladies first". She smiled, a little too shyly  
considering that the man in front of her had been her closest friend  
for a good couple of years.  
  
"Okay. Well, um, there was no traffic. In case you hadn't guessed. I  
was just... thinking, as I was driving, and I thought... this thing,  
between us, it's... yeeurch." Seeing Angel's confused look, she  
clarified: "I mean, the whole not talking, not being friends,  
basically wanting to stab each other, or stake, whatever, to death  
thing. Actually, I think that's just me. But I wanted to, to tell you  
that, um... I want us to be friends again. I miss you." Tell him,  
tell him, tell him, her mind whispered. She stayed quiet.  
  
Angel was, at this point, grinning. He was still suffering from the  
inner turmoil of what he should say, so he just replied:  
  
"I miss you too." Cordelia needed more than that.  
  
"Elaborate." He smiled.  
  
"That whole thing with..." she held up a finger, gesturing, nu-uh,  
not the name, "her, I want to put that behind me. I care about you,  
Cora. I mean, I really care about you, and I need you." Cordy could  
feel the emotion welling up inside of her, a tense feeling,  
excitement, and also dread that he wouldn't feel the same as her.  
  
"I think..." Angel stuttered, terrified of scaring her, or making her  
laugh if she didn't... feel like he did. "I think... I care about you  
in a way... that's more than platonic, just friends." He looked  
carefully at her face. He wasn't sure what the emotion there was, but  
he didn't see disgust or revulsion. He decided to go on.  
  
"I... love you, Cora. I love you so much, and when I realised, I knew  
that that's why I was so worried about talking to you about Darla.  
And I'll say her name, because I know that she's nothing to me.  
Nothing compared to you."  
  
Cordy was choked up. He'd managed to make the most talkative, mouthy  
girl in Los Angeles speechless. She coughed to clear her throat.  
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry...  
  
"Well, look at you, managing to quote cheesy 80s pop songs," she said  
smiling through her tears. Seeing the crushed look on his face, she  
realised that he took her comment the wrong way. "But that's what I  
love about you. Well, part of it. Pop culturally challenged. I mean,  
there's a whole lot left to love after that." She giggled at his face  
as he tried to sift through what she'd said.  
  
"I mean, you're caring, considerate, at least if it doesn't involve a  
certain 400 year old blonde, you're handsome, you listen to me crap  
on about different things that you couldn't ever be interested  
in....unless you're gay, and...you're not, are you?" He shook his  
head, smiling. "You cook for me, even though you don't eat, you were  
always there to talk when I needed, you support me with the acting,  
even though I suck... oh, come on, now honesty? Not so much your  
strongest trait. At least Angelus was honest. I kinda like that in a  
man, but not too much. Some white lying's okay, y'know, 'no sweetie,  
you don't look fat in that rubber catsuit' kinda thing. I also like  
some demon in my man." He raised his eyebrows.  
  
"That does not mean I have a kinky thing for your demon self, because  
I don't. I mean, it's your body, and I suppose it wouldn't be too bad  
because I'm into you, but that doesn't mean I just want you for your  
body; the whole package is great, and I love it all, and you're  
supposed to stop me when I do this. Colour me a redhead, and call me  
Willow Rosenberg." She smiled, and he started to smile back again,  
after the bemusement that accompanied her babbling.  
  
"Wait, um, are trying to say that you, you love me?" he asked  
tentatively.  
  
Instead of replying, she grabbed the back of his head, and pulled him  
towards her to kiss him. At first, the kiss was tentative, but it  
grew more and more passionate as they poured more and more of their  
feelings into it, the sexual tension suddenly resolved. It was as if  
they had been hit by lightning, that once-in-a-lifetime feeling that  
just tells you that you are supposed to spend the rest of your life  
with a person. Angel would certainly spend the rest of his  
unnaturally long existence with her. He wasn't sure how, but he knew  
they'd find a way.  
  
Pulling away from her, Angel looked into her teary eyes.  
  
"Y'know, I'm gonna have to make you say it, because, although that  
was a very good answer..."  
  
"A VERY good answer," she interjected, breathlessly.  
  
"Yes, but I need to hear the words," he said, as he thought how  
beautiful she was, as he stroked her hair.  
  
"I love you, Angel. Well, duh! More than I knew it was possible to  
love someone."  
  
He pulled her back towards him for another, longer, tender kiss.  
Which quickly turned into a very passionate one, as their bodies  
seemed to merge as one. Cordelia ran her fingers through his hair, as  
he held her to him, his hand at the small of his back. She wrapped  
her legs around his waist, and he wrapped his arms around her.  
  
Pulling away, between kisses she said "You remember that... the thing  
with... psycho bitch..." He nodded his head as well as he could under  
the circumstances. "Yeah, I'm... I'm gonna stick a... a pin in  
that... just for now, 'kay?"  
  
"Okay", he replied, then pulled her in for another long kiss,  
carrying her towards the stairs, and up to his bedroom, all the while  
bumping into doors and knocking over ornaments, due to the slightly  
compromised vision.  
  
As he opened the door, he remembered what he had done to the room.  
Slowly, he put her down, and they both stood in the doorway,  
surveying the smouldering wreckage. He was afraid that Cordy would  
suddenly decide that this was wrong, that they couldn't be together,  
but she just held onto his hand.  
  
"Ashes to ashes..." she murmured.  
  
"Dust to dust," he said. The room was a burnt out shell. The pictures  
were all gone. the furniture; well, it wasn't furniture any more. The  
wrought iron bed had barely kept it's shape.  
  
He slowly pulled closed the door, and led Cordy up the hall. They  
were standing in the doorway of another room, a room that Cordelia  
knew had been made up as a guest room. With a double bed and  
everything.  
  
Angel stared into the eyes of his beautiful seer, who, without  
flinching under his penetrating gaze, stared right back at them. They  
stood, for what seemed an eternity. Angel was waiting for her to  
rebuff him, she realised. For an attractive guy, he was kinda  
paranoid and insecure when it came to his sex appeal. Although,  
that's what hundreds of years without a mirror will do to you. She  
finally spoke.  
  
"New room... fresh start.... new memories?" she asked hopefully.  
  
Angel leaned down and captured her lips, picking her up and carrying  
her across the threshold.  
  
"New memories."  
  
FIN  



End file.
